Sport in an Untouched American Wilderness 



etrate to the heart of the old Acadian wil- 

 derness must nearly always do at least fifty 

 miles of honest walking over blazed trails, 

 through trackless swamps, across bushy 

 mountains covered with fallen timber. 

 He must ford unbridged streams, and his 

 guides must carry the entire camp outfit 

 on their backs. 



There are, in the unsubdued fastnesses 

 of the Cow Mountains and other far-away 

 portions of New Brunswick, such dense 

 tangles that the most determined traveller 

 cannot possibly make more than five miles' 

 progress in a day, over the fallen trunks, 

 and through the thick growths. If one 

 could travel as the bear does, on all-fours, 

 he would do better. 



Last fall, having come down an unfre- 

 quented river in a dugout constructed in 

 the interior, Mr. Braithwaite and myself 

 made an evening camp just at the edge of 

 the sparse settlements which extend for 

 some miles up the stream. The next 

 morning a native, looking for his stray cat- 

 tle, came upon us, and asked : " Didn't 

 you come down here eight years ago ? " 



Mr. Braithwaite said this was the fact. 

 The farmer then remarked : " My boy 

 saw your canoe in the river last night, and 

 we remembered that you came down in 



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